Dancing with the Devil
by egyptian-star
Summary: Angel - a newly arisen threat. Squall's allies and himself must counter her. However, as she slowly draws Squall into her web of lies and deceit only one thing keeps him holding on. The fact that she's Rinoa, and that he must save her. SQUINOA


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Author – _Egyptian_star_

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Title – _Dancing with the Devil_

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Genre – _Romance/Action_

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Rating – _PG-13_

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Summary – _Rinoa has left Squall with nothing more than a three-year-old daughter, a cold-hearted letter and a broken heart. For five years, there has been no trace of her – until now._

A new threat is rising, in the form of a new sorceress Angel. Squall, as the Garden Commander, must counter this peril if it kills him. Yet, there is something about Angel. Something recognisable.

As she slowly lures him into her web of lies, broken promises and deceit, only one thing holds his slowly decaying mind together. The fact that Angel is Rinoa, and he would do anything to save her.

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Pairings – _Squall/Rinoa, Seifer/Quistis, Irvine/Selphie, Zell/Ebony_

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Disclaimer – _Every thing you don't recognise belongs to Squaresoft. The rest is the result of a seriously warped imagination._

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'_Dancing with the Devil_''

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'Have you ever danced with the devil in the pale moonlight?'

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Squall re-read the letter in his trembling fingers for the hundredth time that night but it made no more sense than it did six hours ago. She was gone . . . forever? Try as he might, nothing could explain why.

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Gone. The word reverberated its cruel way around his mind, echoed long in his ears. "Why?" he whispered softly to the silent night. "Why?" A deep ache settled in his heart, threatening to tear it from its very roots. His stomach clenched and unclenched mercilessly, sending waves of nausea over him. But it didn't matter. Nothing mattered. She was gone.

His mind reeled slightly as images flashed before him, stopping on one single memory. She was standing right before him, a smile playing over her beautiful mouth, holding out her hand. _For him_. His ring glittered at her finger as she stretched forth her arm a little more, tantalisingly out of reach. Without knowing it, he reached out his hand also. His gloved fingers almost brushed that ivory white perfection before the picture flickered and died.

"No," he cried, before helplessness engulfed him entirely and he sunk weakly to his knees. He could feel the tears streaming down his face, but he hardly registered it. All he could see was Rinoa. Her beautiful raven hair, her full laughing mouth. Those enticing brown eyes. He could feel her soft perfect body in his arms.

He could hear her confirming her love for him. 

She was gone. Gone. Gone . . .

Squall let his head slump forward as he felt the waves of grief wash over him. The world was strangely bleak. Rinoa was his colour. She was his life. And she expected him to survive without her. 

No. He couldn't do it. With shaking hands, he reached down to his belt, fumbling numb fingers undoing the clasps. He slowly drew out the Lionheart, the bright aqua and gold metal flickering in the light. He felt the weight of it in his hands as he grasped the black handle tightly, drawing it up in front of his face. Taking a deep breath, he positioned in front of his heart. He screwed his eyes tight together, begging to wake up from this nightmare. 

Nothing. Silence pounded at his ears, a slight malice in the night air that seemed to will him to carry on. He could feel his heart beating rapidly beneath the point of the lethal blade; he could feel the pinpricks of sweat veiling his forehead. _She's never coming back. _He gripped the blade tighter and drew his arms out, ready to plunge it into his willing flesh, when . . .

"DADDY!" a small, terrified voice shrieked. The blade clattered onto the floor, as a tide of realisation swept over his body. Squall looked down at his outstretched hands in shock. He had just been about to kill himself, when he had a small three-year-old daughter who had only his love to cling on to.

Numbly, he turned his head to see the small figure in front of him. A mop of dark hair, braided tightly down her shoulders. A small face staring up at him, silver tears clinging to her thick black eyelashes. "Daddy?" she whispered again. 

Squall closed his eyes, feeling his own tears sweep down his cheeks. Slowly, he held out his arms to her and with a choked out wail he felt her small body hurling into him. He drew his strong arms around her sobbing form, burying his face into her thick brown hair.

"It looks like it's just you and me now," he whispered hoarsely to the trembling young soul, "for mummy's never coming back."

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Well, there you go. I hope you enjoyed it! How about five reviews?


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